


Trying To Get To You

by tebtosca



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Drunk Sex, Fake Marriage, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-30
Updated: 2012-08-30
Packaged: 2017-11-13 04:48:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/499647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tebtosca/pseuds/tebtosca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One night in Vegas changes everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trying To Get To You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for salt-burn-porn for riyku's prompt of "a night to remember".

“Gentlemen, I’m sorry, but gay marriage is not legal in the state of Nevada just yet.”

Jensen squints. “That’s racist.”

Elvis blinks back at him. “It’s really not, no.”

“So you’re telling me that those two—“ Jensen huffs, pointing back at Danneel and Steve standing off to the side trying to stay upright, “—could get married right now—“

“Ew,” Danneel hiccups, swinging her arm around Steve’s shoulders and spilling Malibu and Diet Coke on his shirt.

“—even though they can barely tolerate each other, just because she has a vagina?”

Elvis blinks again. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“Totally racist.”

Jensen looks over at Jared, who is pouting violently and swaying. His hair is sticking straight up and his face is flushed from booze and disappointment, and _God_ , he’s fucking beautiful. Jensen wants to marry him really bad, and it’s not just the seven whiskeys talking.

“You guys are massively wasted, aren’t you?” Elvis asks, and his voice is way too amused for Jensen’s liking.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Oh, yeah, “ Danneel hollers over at them.

“Tell ya what, my friends,” Elvis says, clapping his hands. His rhinestones shimmer in the light of the chapel and it makes Jensen squint again. “How about I fake-gay marry you instead? Same ceremony, less chance of having to get an annulment tomorrow.”

Jared beams, and stumbles into Jensen’s arms. Okay, maybe they are a _little_ wasted.

“Jensen Ackles, will you fake gay marry me?” he asks, earnest puppy face in full bloom, and Jensen can’t quite recall how miserable he was less than an hour before.

****

**47 minutes earlier**

“You’ve done a lot of dumb shit, Ackles, but this has got to take the cake,” Danneel says, rolling her eyes and knocking back another gulp of her fourth—no, fifth, maybe?—drink. 

Jensen looks over at her and scowls. He did not drag his friends to Vegas to tell him how dumb he is for, well, coming to Vegas. “I freaked out, okay? It’s not my fault.”

“It’s always your fault,” Danneel insists, throwing a $10 chip at his head.

“It’s _usually_ his fault,” Steve corrects, and Jensen pats him on the back for sticking up for him. Kind of. Steve’s not _mean_ like Danneel. Well, less mean.

“You’re mean, Danni.”

“I’m honest, you schmuck.”

Jensen knocks his forehead against the bar top and moans. “How could I have just left like that? Jared must think that I don’t want him. How could I let him think that?”

“Did you ever say that you didn’t want him?” Steve asks. 

Jensen looks up at him with one eye and watches him take another shot of Patron. “Well, no. But running out of the room and getting on a plane to Vegas right after he kissed me for the first time was probably a bad sign.”

The bartender refills the shot glass with a raised eyebrow and passes it over to Jensen without a word. 

“Even the bartender thinks I’m a loser,” Jensen wails, knocking back the shot and gasping as the liquid burns his throat. Serves him right for being such an _idiot._

Danneel starts pounding him on the back when he starts choking. 

“Maybe your first reaction is the right one,” Steve says. “Maybe Jared’s not the guy for you and your gut told you to run.”

Jensen smacks Steve on the back of the head for even suggesting it.

“Jared is, like, everything. All of it. I mean, he’s the sun and all of the constellations and a supernova rolled up into one. I don’t know what to do when I’m not with him,” Jensen insists, and Danneel has to hold him up as he sways off his bar stool.

“Hey, what about us? We’re here with you,” Steve asks, and he sounds about as offended as someone as consistently stoned as he is can manage.

“You’re a moon rock, Steve.”

Danneel snorts and tips Jensen back towards the bar. “I hope I’m at least the International Space Station.”

Jensen concedes her that and reaches over to tap his glass to hers.

“Did you really mean that?” 

Jensen turns so fast at the sound of _that voice_ that he nearly falls off his chair. Danneel reaches out to steady him as he stands in front of Jared.

He looks terrible, purple smudges under his eyes and sweat dripping down his temples. Jensen reaches out on instinct, unable to help himself, and wipes the moisture away with a cocktail napkin. Jared flushes bright red, and Jensen realizes what he’s doing, pulling the crumpled paper back and holding it against his chest awkwardly.

“You’re here,” Jensen mumbles, searching Jared’s face through the booze haze to try and determine whether this is just a dream. “How are you here?”

“You left your email open with the flight confirmation,” Jared mumbles, looking at Jensen through the mess of his bangs. “I maybe, kind of, followed you.” He takes a big, raspy breath. “I totally followed you.”

“You followed me?” Jensen repeats dumbly, and ignores Danneel poking him in the shoulder blades.

“Yeah, but I didn’t know what hotel you were in, so I just kind of _walked_ to all of them, and this is my fifth one, and my feet are killing me, and Vegas _sucks_ in August, and I think someone tried to recruit me for a live porn show.” Jared holds up a black and white flyer with a half naked man on it as proof and chuckles wearily. “Right outside Circus Circus, too, man. Doesn’t anyone think of the kids?”

Jensen’s mouth opens and closes like a guppy, and he just starts noticing how glassy Jared’s eyes are. Kind of like his own, he suspects. “Are you drunk, Jay?”

Jensen supposes he doesn’t notice Jared swaying because he’s swaying himself. _Huh._

“Those real nice cocktail waitress ladies kept shoving free drinks in my hands.” Jared looks right at Jensen and his voice cracks. “I think they felt sorry for me since I was just wandering around like I just lost my best friend.”

Jensen holds the sweaty napkin up to his mouth as he feels wetness tickle his eyes. He’s never seen that look on Jared’s face before, much less been the one to _put_ it there.

“Oh, for fuck’s _sake_ ,” Danneel groans, hopping up and pushing Jensen into Jared’s chest. “Make out already and put us all out of our misery.”

“Yes, please do,” the bartender agrees, eyes twinkling with amusement.

Jensen looks up at Jared and realizes-- _oh_ \--his lips are right there. Just a few centimeters and…

“Marry me, Jared,” Jensen says instead and Jared blinks at him a few times. His breath smells like something fruity and Jensen gets warm all over at the thought that he might be getting a chance to taste it soon.

“I said make out, doofus, not propose. Can’t even get that one right,” Danneel replies with a snort, reaching back for another drink. 

“What happens in Vegas,” Steve intones.

****

**Back at the Little White Wedding Chapel**

“Do you promise to love him tender?”

Jensen smiles up at Jared. “I do.”

“Do you promise to love him true?”

Jared grins back. “I do.”

“Love him _long_ , baby!” Danneel cackles, sticking her tongue out at Jensen when he attempts a scowl at her.

“Good enough for me, fellas,” Elvis says with a lip curl and hip swivel. “I now pronounce you husband and husband. Kinda.”

“Kiss him already, Ackles. Jesus _Christ._ ”

“Danni, shut—“ Jensen starts to hiss, but he doesn’t finish the sentence because Jared—his _husband_ , kinda—is pulling him into his arms and crushing their mouths together.

The kiss is completely different than their first and only. Back then, it was tentative and unsure, Jared pressing his lips to Jensen’s in an act of bravery that Jensen went ahead and ruined. This time, however, it’s stronger, sloppier, too much spit and not enough balance as they sway and cling to each other and try to devour each other right there in front of God and Elvis. Jared tastes like strawberry margarita mix and Jensen tastes like Jack Daniels, and combined that is kind of gross and kind of hot, yet altogether perfect.

They pull back with a gasp, for no other reason than because they have to breathe, and stare at each other like nothing in the world will ever be the same again.

“Hey Steve, wanna go find ourselves a strip club? I think these two kids have some consummating to do.”

***

Jensen’s not quite sure how they make it back to the hotel room without getting hit by a car or recruited for a porn show. Fortunately it doesn’t matter when they finally push open the door of the room and start frantically pulling pieces of clothing off. They’re kissing so hard that they almost don’t notice when Jared trips and lands on his ass on the floor.

“Ow,” he says briefly, before stretching himself out like a starfish on the carpet. Jensen drops to his knees next to him and stares at him, before realizing that Jared is giggling so he’s obviously not too hurt. Especially when he starts making half-naked snow angels.

“Dork,” Jensen murmurs, bending over to place tiny kisses all along Jared’s jawline.

“I’m your husband,” Jared sing-songs, lifting his arms up to wrap around Jensen’s neck. He pulls Jensen down until Jensen loses his balance as well and flops on top of Jared.

Jensen lets out a huge puff of air and he doesn’t know if it’s because of the fall or the overwhelming sense of happiness that he’s feeling as he lies here drunk on the floor of a Vegas hotel room with the greatest person he’s ever known tucked underneath him.

Jared leans up to kiss him then, and this time it’s slow and sweet and tender. It’s a kiss that says that they have all the time in the world, and they’re going to enjoy every second of it.

“Do you want to get up off the floor?” Jensen asks after a few minutes of lazy making out. His head is spinning a bit and his cock is pissed off that he’s still wearing jeans.

“I don’t think I can,” Jared replies, and he sounds like he’s actually contemplated the logistics of it and realized the futility.

Jensen just hums as he starts kissing down the warm, bare skin of Jared’s torso. He’s still damp with the sweat of the day, and Jensen runs his nose along the curves of his ribs, just breathing him in.

“I’m all gross,” Jared protests half-heartedly, his hips pushing up involuntarily in a search for friction.

“You’re delicious,” Jensen corrects, trailing back over to run his teeth across the pink flesh of Jared’s nipples.

“Jensen,” Jared gasps, and Jensen runs his hands soothingly up his sides to reassure him.

“What do you want, Jay? Anything you want, anything at all,” Jensen asks, tucking his face against Jared’s neck because he wants to feel his pulse alive and true against his skin.

“I want you to fuck me. Please, Jensen,” Jared says, and he looks shy again, like when he first got up the nerve to kiss Jensen. Like when he stood there on the casino floor and let Jensen touch his face without any guarantees or promises behind it. Like when Elvis told them that the state of Nevada might not give a shit about them, but they give a shit about each other.

There’s a split second in there where Jensen gets to mourn the fact that he ever let Jared doubt him, but it’s over in an instant the second he crushes his mouth against Jared’s. He’s balancing his weight on Jared’s thighs, straddling him, as he threads his hands up Jared’s bare arms until he’s holding loosely onto Jared’s wrists. Jensen tugs them up until they are spread out over Jared’s head, pressed firmly to the carpet. Jared hitches his breath when Jensen mumbles, “keep them there,” and jumps up.

“Where are you going?” Jared whines, but Jensen looks back to see with a thrill that his arms stretched out exactly where Jensen left them. 

“Fuck, I don’t have any lube,” Jensen curses, moving precariously over to the bathroom to search for something slick enough to use. His head is like the inside of a fishbowl, but he lets out a triumphant “ah-ha!” when he spots a tiny bottle of some fancy lotion next to his toothbrush.

“Sandalwood, that’s pretty masculine,” Jensen says, grinning as he drops back down to his knees. He throws the bottle to the side and starts yanking Jared’s pants off of him.

“So my ass won’t smell like mangos tomorrow. Thank god,” Jared deadpans, lifting his hips so Jensen can get the blasted material off of him. Thankfully, the boxers, sticky with precome and sweat, come off with the denim, and Jensen is faced with the brand new and brilliant sight of his quasi-husband’s naked Adonis body.

“Wow,” Jensen croaks.

“Wow?” 

“God, yes, wow.”

Jared turns bright red but he’s smiling blissfully and his dick is practically vibrating against his stomach. Jensen can’t bear to wait even one second more without tasting it, so he bends down and licks a stripe right up along the underside, from root to tip.

Jared makes this hurt little sound, and Jensen knows that he wants to slam up, wants to grab Jensen’s hair and take what he wants. But he doesn’t, just keeps himself still with his wrists braced by phantom hands against the floor, and it’s the hottest thing Jensen’s ever experienced in either reality _or_ fantasy.

Jensen takes Jared’s dick into his mouth, has to, needs to feel the weight of it against his tongue and edging into the back of his throat. Bobs up and down and lets his senses take over, just slightly bitter precome on his tongue and Jared’s scent in his nostrils and the blasting furnace of heat radiating off of Jared’s skin against his cheeks every time he goes all the way down.

He can feel Jared’s dick twitching and knows that he must be close, so Jensen pulls off. Jared whines and follows Jensen’s mouth with his hips, but Jensen just grabs the bottle of lotion and pops the cap off as elegantly as he can in his lust-and-booze-filled haze. 

“Fuck, no condom,” Jensen says, frowning at he stares down at the now sad looking bottle of lotion in his hand. 

“It’s okay, we’re married,” Jared insists, wrapping his legs up around Jensen’s waist to prompt him forward.

“Are you sure? I mean, that’s kind of huge.”

“Just don’t give me syphilis,” Jared says, actually giggling at Jensen’s facial expression. 

“I don’t have syphilis,” Jensen replies, pouting.

“Ah, baby, I’m sure you don’t have syphilis,” Jared coos, and he’s pulling Jensen down on top of him so he can get in another messy, drunken kiss.

“I mean, I haven’t had sex with anyone but my right hand since I met you,” Jensen says softly, and then curses himself when he realizes how pitiful that sounds.

Fortunately, it just makes Jared beam even brighter, and a happy, naked Jared Padalecki is never a bad thing. Jared wiggles his ass for good measure, and how the hell is Jensen supposed to resist that?

Jensen pulls off his pants with as much grace as possible—only tripping once, thankfully—and then he’s kneeling there between Jared’s legs and rubbing slick fingers down the cleft of his ass.

Jared opens himself to him, vulnerable, content, and Jensen looks him in the eyes when his first finger breaches him. Jared bites his lip, his eyes fluttering, but he fucks back onto Jensen’s finger until Jensen goes ahead and adds a second one. 

It’s hot inside, but Jared’s always burning up, so it’s not terribly surprising. He’s tight though, and that startles Jensen a bit, makes him wonder if Jared hasn’t done this much, if ever. It makes Jensen feel special, important, like there is a gift he’s being given that he needs to handle with care.

Of course, right now, they are both drunk and desperate and goddamn fucking horny, so when Jared’s hitching his thighs up around Jensen’s ribs and demanding that he fuck him already, Jensen is shoving into him and bottoming out in one quick, brutal stroke. 

They both groan, but Jensen’s hands are back on Jared’s wrists and Jared is biting Jensen’s lips raw. The pace is fast, reckless, no rhythm, Jared sliding up the carpet until his head is nearly butting against the foot of the bed. 

Jared’s coming about twenty seconds after Jensen finally gets a hand around his dick, and the absolute vice that it creates out of Jared’s ass is more than enough to pull Jensen over with him. Jensen can feel his come slicking Jared up, making the glide smoother, wetter, dirtier, and more beautiful.

“Holy shit.”

Jensen pulls out of Jared with a hiss and collapses next to him on the floor. He’s unsure if he’ll ever get his heart rate back to normal again, but it’s more than worth it.

“Um, Jensen?” 

Jensen looks over at his kinda-husband, and the look of pain on his face makes Jensen sit up a little too fast for his intoxicated, post-orgasm state. “What’s wrong? Jay, did I hurt you?”

Jared just rolls over at that, and Jensen gasps at the red streaks of what can only be the most epic of carpet burns that line Jared’s back from shoulders to tailbone. 

When Jensen doesn’t do more than sit there feeling like the worst husband ever, Jared sits up gently and leans over to kiss him firmly on the mouth. “Stop thinking so hard, you moron.”

“I’m the worst husband ever,” Jensen repeats out loud, unable to keep anything _inside_ his brain, apparently. 

Jared replies to that by Eskimo kissing him, and, seriously, a 6’5” fucked-out, naked, drunk Yeti with insane hair and carpet burns should _not_ be that adorable. 

“This is the part where you put me on our big old bed over there that we totally missed by, like, two feet, and tend to my war wounds.” Jared kisses him again. “And then cuddle me.”

It takes them a few minutes to coordinate their precarious equilibriums, but they manage to accomplish it well enough. Jared sighs happily as he stretches out on his belly, and Jensen starts rubbing a little packet of Neosporin that he found in the bathroom on the nasty looking scratches on his back. It’s kind of soothing, just straddling Jared’s thighs, rubbing circles into his boy’s skin, and just breathing together. Jensen thinks he could do this every day, just hopefully without the sex injury part.

That’s when Jensen notices that his own come is trickling out of Jared’s hole and leaking down both of their thighs. Jensen bites his lip and traces his finger down, pushing just the tip inside. Jared moans sleepily, but doesn’t protest, so Jensen starts finger-fucking him with one hand while taking care of his back with the other hand. It doesn’t take long for Jensen to press just hard and long enough against Jared’s prostate that he is coming all over the bedsheet. Jensen can’t resist pushing just the head of his dick back into Jared’s hole while it’s still twitching so perfectly, and the pulsations have Jensen coming before he even gets a few inches in.

Jensen knows he’s about three seconds away from passing out in exhaustion, so he tumbles sideways onto the bed next to Jared. They are both gross and sticky and covered in come and lotion and antibiotic ointment, but they are just going to have to deal with being disgusting in the morning.

“You still better cuddle me, husband.” Jared’s voice is raspy with sleep, but as warm as his skin and his smile.

Jensen wraps his filthy body against Jared’s filthy body, careful not to disturb his scratches. He grins against Jared’s shoulder, and thinks that maybe luck _is_ on his side tonight.


End file.
